


I Want You to Stay

by dramionetrash



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Draco Malfoy, Adult Hermione Granger, Anxiety, Casual Sex, Complete, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Endgame Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Idiots in Love, Lonely Draco Malfoy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Naked Cuddling, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Tea, Unrequited Love, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramionetrash/pseuds/dramionetrash
Summary: “Why are you here?”She didn’t wait for a response, leaving the door open behind her as she stepped back inside. It was as close as she could get to inviting him in, but she knew he’d come anyway. He always did.“I wanted attention.”She snorted at his bluntness. When didn’t he want attention? When didn’t Draco Malfoy enter a room and demand all the attention in it. He was starved for it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	I Want You to Stay

“Why are you here?” Hermione watched her words heat the frigid night air before her breath spindled away like a wisp of a patronus. Could she even still cast a patronus? She hadn’t tried in so long she wasn’t sure.

She didn’t wait for a response, leaving the door open behind her as she stepped back inside. It was as close as she could get to inviting him in, but she knew he’d come anyway. He always did.

She made it all the way to the kitchen, past her darkened living room and the shadowy stairs, without the echo of a second pair of footsteps. Hermione pulled two mugs from the cupboard to the sound of the front door closing. She listened to the familiar sound of Draco’s heavy shoes trudging towards the light, all too settled yet all too loud.

“I wanted attention.”

She snorted at his bluntness. When didn’t he want attention? When didn’t Draco Malfoy enter a room and demand all the attention in it. He was starved for it.

She ignored him while she made their tea. Could she really ignore him though? Truly? She stirred three spoonfuls of honey into Draco’s tea because that’s how he takes it. That’s why she bought honey and keeps it in her kitchen. Hermione didn’t actually care for honey. She stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into hers.

“The Manor not entertaining enough for you?” She quipped with a false air of lightness, but when she turned her head he wasn’t there. She couldn’t force her heart not to speed up at his absence. She felt the sudden loneliness again with a pang. She was alone.

She steadied her breath enough that her voice wouldn’t quiver when she called “Draco?” into the emptiness.

He emerged from the illuminated stairwell, a half-amused smirk playing at his lips. “You missed me?” 

When Hermione didn’t answer he continued, his smirk begrudgingly sliding from his mouth like honey from a teaspoon, “You keep it too dark in here.”

She gave him a shrug with his tea. What could she say? The truth? I don’t like shedding light on the fact that this house doesn’t feel like home.

The drawer of Draco’s things in her bedroom was crammed with hair products and cologne and little bits of him to the point of bursting. Her clothes barely filled her drawers. She couldn’t remember what her favorite perfume smelled like. Did she even have one? She liked the smell of his aftershave. She supposed that didn’t count.

She hadn’t hung a single picture on the walls or connected her fireplace to the floo network or properly stocked the kitchen with more than tea, coffee, and take away menus.

“I’ve gotten used to it.” It wasn’t a lie. Coming home to solitude and silence wasn’t a comfort, but it was a routine.

“You haven’t been around in a while,” Hermione tried prompting, despite knowing Draco wouldn’t tell her what he did when he wasn’t with her. Spending nights with Draco wasn’t a routine, but it was a comfort.

“I was waiting for an invitation,” he snarked. It earned him a smile. Half a smile? It made her lip twitch.

If Hermione had known that Draco was as lonely as she, perhaps she would have invited him over more often, every night even. If she’d known he only came over occasionally to keep up a false air of casualty, she might have called his bluff. If Draco had told her he felt more at home in her dim, drafty little house than he ever had in all his life at Malfoy Manor, she might have invited him to stay, permanently.

But, as it was, both were ignorant to the other’s longing for companionship that they always sought out in each other.

Draco set down the still full mug, already cold, already leeched of any warmth it had to offer. Hermione would put it in microwave for him, but Draco Malfoy refused to eat anything heated in a microwave. He said he didn’t like that muggle contraption.

Hermione assumed he was holding onto some of his old prejudices, even as he held onto her at night. In truth, Draco was afraid to delve too deep into the muggle world for a casual affair. What if he grew too accustomed to microwaved popcorn and movies on the television and talking on the telephone for hours and hours and hours until one of them fell asleep? He couldn’t expect a pureblood witch to understand that he hated cleaning up after an owl and didn’t understand why he should when the muggles had a device that let him listen to Hermione Granger’s steady breathing while she slept. Or at least, until she woke up and realized she was still on the phone and assumed Draco had hung up hours ago and Draco’s calm was interrupted by the *click* of Hermione’s presence vanishing.

They slipped up the stairs without a sound, as if they were sneaking around, as if they were a secret even the house shouldn’t know. Of course, everyone knew. They found out slowly. Hermione made Ron and Harry swear not to tell a soul. The fire whiskey confessed for Draco over drinks with Theo and Blaise. Ron had to tell George. Blaise had to tell Pansy. Harry had to Ginny. Pansy had to tell Luna. And tell and tell and tell until there was no one left to tell. But still, it’s a secret.

They wouldn’t shag. Sometimes they did. Sometimes Hermione straddled Draco and moved her hips with the slow sureness of someone who isn’t in a rush to finish and is happy to take their time teasing soft moans from their partner. Other times Draco bent Hermione over the arm of her reading chair and pretended not to notice that she always got distracted studying the spines of the books on her shelf, no doubt thinking about how she should reorganize them after he left. He pretended he didn’t find it endearing. He never mentioned that her book shelf was rearranged.

No. Tonight Draco said he wanted attention. So they would curl up in bed and not shag and fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing, not through the phone.

Draco waited until Hermione was pretending to be asleep to kiss her forehead. She considered opening her eyes and kissing him back, but decided against it. She told herself that he’s just lonely tonight. He only wants attention tonight. She reminded herself that he would be gone in the morning. He was always gone in the morning.

Hermione wasn’t sure when she stopped pretending and finally fell asleep.

The familiar yet unexpected pressure around her waist made her stomach drop. She gasped and her eyes shot open in panic to...to...nothing? Or, not nothing, to Draco. To an arm around her waist. To the the most startling and most startled pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong?” His surrounding grip on her body tightened protectively. No, not protectively, she told herself, just instinctively.

“What time is it?” she asked. Draco wondered then if Hermione had somewhere to be in the morning and if he made a mistake staying the night. Hermione wondered, did Draco stay the night?

Before he could answer Hermione found her bearings. She saw the sun peaking through the gaps in the curtains and saw the very discreet, muggle-looking backpack Draco must have had with him when he came last night. Oh! That must be why he went upstairs as soon as he got here, Hermione realized, to drop his overnight bag in her room.

She was right of course. Except that Draco also had to make sure Hermione wouldn’t see his backpack at all, just in case he got scared and changed his mind. Or she didn’t want him overnight.

“You stayed the night.” She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement of fact. It sounded like both to her ears.

Unsure how to answer, Draco nodded. He sighed with relief when Hermione closed her eyes and curled into his body like a puzzle piece sliding into place. He kissed her forehead, and let her feel his smile against her skin.

Hermione didn’t open her eyes. She held on as if her bare hands could catch smoke. She told herself this didn’t change a thing and he’d still leave soon and she’d be alone when he did. She held him and waited. Waited for the feel of bed dipping to one side and waited the sound of the door closing and waited the ache of abandonment. Waited and waited and waited. But Draco didn’t move.

Hermione opened her eyes to check and he gave her a signature Malfoy smirk.

“You’re...” Hermione swirled her optioned around with her tongue, struggling to choose her next words. “staying?”

Draco’s smirk fell. Did she want him to stay? He should have asked. But how could he bring up without sounding like...like...he wasn’t sure. Like something he didn’t want to sound like.

“Do you want me to?”

Questions about how long and what this meant swirled dizzyingly through both their heads.

Draco was sure she’d say no, that he’d made a huge mistake. Hermione was sure this was still temporary, that a few more hours in the morning wouldn’t change anything.

Hermione rested her head on Draco’s chest and closed her eyes again, without giving him an answer, or perhaps that was her answer. Either way she was sure she’d wake to him slipping out of bed.

But she didn’t. She woke to him fast asleep under her. She reminded herself he’d leave soon. Kissed his forehead. And slipped downstairs to the kitchen.

Last night’s tea was still on the counter, disgusting and cold. She debated with herself whether to spill it out or microwave it. Then she debated with herself whether to microwave both mugs or just her own.

The beeping of the microwave must have woken Draco because he came downstairs just as she was pulling out two mugs of old, reheated tea. He plucked his own from her hand without a word and sipped it.

Hermione studied Draco in boxer shorts and bed head. He looked nice in the morning. She could get used to seeing it.

“You’re staying?” she asked again.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Draco needed to know if she meant for the day or until tonight so he could shag her properly, or if, he dared to hope, she meant she wanted him to stay. Does she want me to stay?

“Do you want me to?”

Yes. Hermione knew the answer without having to think about it. Yet, she didn’t know how to answer the question.

“Yea?” Draco stepped closer. Into her personal space. He brushed a curl behind her ear and she realized she was nodding yes even when she hadn’t said it yet.

Draco’s hand steadied her head and pressed warmth from his mug into her cheek.

“You want me to stay?” Draco’s voice was a whisper ghosting across the other side of her face. His breathe smelled like mint and honey and she wanted to kiss him but she didn’t want him to disappear. He smelled like mint. Did he brush his teeth before he came downstairs? And Hermione didn’t even like honey.

“Stay?” she repeated.

Draco wasn’t sure it was a yes but it was enough to calm his anxiety that she’d reject him, at least for now.

“As long as you want me.”

Hermione wanted to tell him she’d always want him. She never wanted him to go. But that might scare him off. Casual. They’re casual. She nodded and they both sat down to drink their tea and look over the takeaway menus to find a place that would deliver breakfast.

“I want you to stay.”


End file.
